


they don't bark and they don't bite

by jupiterjazzpartii



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), M/M, mention of animal injury, we have thoughts about scrubs here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterjazzpartii/pseuds/jupiterjazzpartii
Summary: Crowley's been working as an ER vet tech for Celestial Animal Clinic and Emergency Care Center for roughly a decade now. It's not a particularly easy or stress-free job, but saving the lives of people's pets is rewarding. And if his relationship with the lovely Dr. Aziraphale Eastgate is a major factor in why he stays at this particular clinic, well...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone it’s me back again with another vet au! this time completely unrelated to that other one. title from king harvest's dancing in the moonlight
> 
> so two things as a general note  
> \- first: this story is going to have vague mentions of animal injury. nothing grotesque or focused on but it’s about emergency vets so be cautioned!  
> \- secondly: i don’t know how vets in GB work internally! this story is 100% based exactly off the 24/7 emergency clinic i work at and it is pure indulgence. my apologies if you’re a british vet or vet tech and if you have a bone to pick with this story please send me an email with all your complaints at vetau2sucks@gmail.com

Crowley was going to be late. He was blissfully naive when he’d snoozed his alarm six times that morning, thinking _ah, five more minutes surely can’t hurt, can it?_

Well yes. Yes it can. Especially when it’s ‘five more minutes’ six times over, meaning when he finally regained consciousness enough to realize his fatal mistake, Crowley had less than a half hour to properly wake up, dress himself, and head to work if he wanted to arrive in a somewhat timely manner.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Crowley chanted under his breath, tearing through his laundry in an effort to find clean scrubs as quickly as possible. “Why do I never fold these? Every time I put them in the wash I think ‘oh it’d be so helpful to fold and put these out for the next day’ and then I _never do?_ ”

As it often happens, after complaining out loud about the lack of scrubs he was able to find them relatively quickly, pulling them out of a pile of laundry he’d yet to find the motivation to put away with a triumphant cheer. From there, it was a mad dash to actually put them on, place some kibble out for his cat*, take a quick coffee break, and then scramble out the door.

_*An orange tabby simply named Cat._

When he’d finally managed to wrangle himself into the front seat of his car and pull away from his flat’s complex, he immediately merged into what seemed to be never-ending lunch-time traffic.

Yep.

Definitely late.

In what he would admittedly refer to as a “melodramatic moment” if confronted over it, Crowley groaned and shoved his forehead into the steering wheel. While the cars before him inched forward, he considered how this could be a dark omen for his shift and contemplated the merits of simply turning around and heading back to bed.

There were two major reasons to persevere in the face of adversity and stay awake. Firstly, his paycheck. Getting paid typically required one to show up for their shift and while an impromptu day off would be well-appreciated, Crowley appreciated being able to buy groceries more.

Secondly, and arguably more importantly, was Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, the bright light and actual honest-to-God angel of Celestial Animal Clinic and Emergency Care Center. Or rather, Dr. Aziraphale Eastgate, if one were to be formal*, the main emergency veterinarian on call during the clinic’s twenty-four hour weekends. Aziraphale, who would be expecting Crowley to clock in any minute now and who Crowley would much rather do near anything than disappoint him. 

_*Which Crowley strove to never be._

Sure, Aziraphale could cope without him there for one shift, he’s seen the man wrangle circuses during the most hectic hours of the clinic’s operations by himself before, but it would just be a dick move to abandon him on what Crowley knows will be a busy day for a couple more hours of sleep. Plus, Crowley knows he’s a worrywart and if he calls out then Aziraphale will spend the whole shift fretting over his wellbeing and sending ‘ _are you drinking enough water?? taking meds? do you want me to bring you soup??’_ texts again. Crowley swore as this train of thought hit him, realizing that he should probably text Aziraphale and let him know that he’d be late to prevent as much fretting as possible. Luckily the snail’s pace of the line of cars in front of him meant that he was able to fire off a quick message. Whether or not Aziraphale would actually check his mobile before Crowley got there was a toss-up though.

Besides the whole dick move reason, he’s got _the_ most devastating crush on Aziraphale. He’s handsome of course, with eyes one could write poems about, a face so distinguished Crowley is sure a portrait of him belongs in a museum somewhere, and a barrel chest and round stomach that would put one of those lumberjack pinups to shame. His sense of style honestly shouldn’t work, when he’s not in the standard grey ER scrubs he wears a sensible waistcoat over light shirtsleeves and usually completes the look with a bow tie and braces all under his white doctor’s coat, yet somehow he manages the 50’s professor aesthetic exceedingly well. He’s incredibly kind while also having a persistent bastard streak, funny in unexpected ways, fussy and particular, and possibly the most fascinating person Crowley has ever met.

So the scant few days their schedules align are the highlights of Crowley’s entire work week. Normally, for the better half of the week, Aziraphale works during the day in the main clinic, and Crowley is not ashamed to say he’s known the good doctor’s regular schedule by heart since a week after their first meeting* nearly a decade ago. His schedule has been consistent throughout the years: he works Tuesdays with regular appointments, is off Mondays and Wednesdays, he’s the daytime walk-in/emergency vet on Thursdays and Fridays, and he’s the main emergency vet on the weekends. His weekday schedule is vexing for Crowley, who on any given weekday that he works only clocks in right as the main clinic is closing which leaves barely any time for a greeting, much less a chat if Aziraphale is to leave in a timely manner**.

_*Coincidentally when his extremely devastating crush began developing as well._

_**That being said, there have been countless days where Aziraphale will hang around long after his shift is over simply to chat with Crowley._

The weekends, though. Those long shifts he gets to work with Aziraphale are always worth it. When he began as a lowly emergency tech, the busy chaos of weekend shifts were the bane of his existence, but once Aziraphale had taken over as the main weekend vet Crowley had volunteered to switch his scheduled days around to be available every weekend. His reasoning to the clinic’s admin was that no one else was willing to consistently work them, and it’s not like he was doing anything else from noon to midnight anyway. He’d honestly rather work those twelve hours by Aziraphale’s side than sit alone in his flat watching whatever trash show managed to pique his interest on Netflix.

Admittedly being in such close quarters every single weekend did not do much to ease his crush. It actually intensified it, as surprisingly it turns out that spending upwards of twenty hours every weekend with the object of your affection, working alongside them, talking* and eating dinner with them, only serves to make your affection stronger. Weird.

_*Pretty much the only time either of them is quiet in the other’s presence is when they require the utmost concentration. And honestly, not even then.**_

_**Topics of discussion range from work and patients, to food and recent eateries, to philosophy and genuinely anything else. They’ve yet to reach a topic they couldn’t have an hour-long discussion on._

Thus, here he is. Working what will more than likely be another hellish twelve-hour Saturday shift with the pretty veterinarian who makes his heart do flips. And he will gladly do it again, and again and again etc. until Aziraphale gets tired of him. Which he suspects isn’t going to be any time soon, because despite how much time they spend together at the clinic, they also have at least one standing date* every week, where they’ll get together on one of their days off**.

_*Not a real, official date yet but Crowley will take it._

_**Usually Crowley’s, as his work schedule is less rigid than Aziraphale’s._

Getting lost in his thoughts was an excellent distraction from the still-meandering traffic, and he reached the clinic in a bit of a daze. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, grabbed his phone, and dashed through the back door.

The moment he stepped inside he immediately located Aziraphale, holding a chart and listening to the previous shift’s vet* explain a hospitalized patient’s diagnosis. Crowley allowed himself the acceptable two (2) seconds of staring** before he trudged to the nearest computer to clock in. 

_*Doctor Raven Sable. Very tall and extremely charming but not Crowley’s favorite to work with._

_**Platonically admiring how well those gray scrubs fit him. That’s all._

Any ideas about this shift being peaceful went out the door when he was intercepted by Anathema flouncing up to him. Anathema was normally a daytime technician, but she mainly worked with Aziraphale during his walk-in doctor shifts so she was especially suited to both dealing with Aziraphale’s particularities and working with emergent cases and thus she ended up working roughly every other weekend. Unlike most of the others in the daytime crew*, Crowley actually really liked her. She was into the occult, unnervingly positive even in the face of Crowley’s less-than-peppy attitude, extremely American, and steady under pressure.

_*Excluding Aziraphale, but the man worked so many ER shifts that he was no longer just a daytime doctor, and according to Crowley he’d “never fit in with those absolute uptight pricks anyway.”_

And right now she was already asking him a question about a potential case before he could even clock in properly.

“—So Newt has the owner on the phone still, I thought it should be alright to monitor until their regular vet is open again, but I wanted to check and see what _you_ thought. I would’ve asked Aziraphale, but he’s still rounding with Dr. Sable.”

“List out the symptoms again. Wasn’t really paying attention the first time.”

He listened to Anathema detail the situation again, slower this time, as he clocked in.

“Right, yeah. Should be good to just keep an eye on ‘em until they can get in on Monday. Let them know that if they notice any swelling or, y’know, redness and whatnot they can give us another call or come in.”

With that, Anathema nodded and bounced off, presumably to relay the message to their receptionist, Newt*.

_*Full name Newton Pulsifer. Absolutely terrible with animals for someone who shares a name with one, but surprisingly good with people for someone so timid._

He made his way through the treatment area over to where Aziraphale was waving off Dr. Sable. Aziraphale looked over, caught his eye, and beamed*.

_*Crowley knows Aziraphale’s smiles. He’s got the I’m-Deeply-Uncomfortable-But-Trying-To-Work-Through-It smile that tends to come out most when he’s speaking with the other daytime vets, the This-Is-Awkward-But-I’ll-Be-Polite smile for the intense clients plus an award winning customer service smile for the others, a series of unique and genuine smirks and smiles for loads of situations, and finally the Crowley smile. This one crops up mainly whenever Crowley first appears in his vision or whenever Crowley does something kind for him**._

_**This of course means absolutely nothing to Crowley, who definitely does not do everything in his power to bring that smile out as much as possible._

Aziraphale’s smile soon turned teasing, as he turned his nose up and said, “Finally decided to come to work, hm?”

God, Crowley liked him. “Aw, come on doc, you know I’d never actually miss a Saturday shift with you. Imagine where you’d be without me here. Drowning in limping dogs and sick kittens and the like.”

Aziraphale chuckled, a rumbling sound that Crowley will obsess over for the duration of this shift, “Yes, I imagine I’d be very put out without your help. Every shift without you is devastating.” He turned away, picking up a few charts from the exam table before looking back, “Are you ready, then? Shall we take a look at who we already have here?”

“Sure, sure. Might as well get to it.”

Standing side by side, and possibly a little closer than necessarily needed, Aziraphale started to read out the patients they currently had checked in. The whole time Aziraphale was explaining, Crowley was making mental notes: a dog with a possible tapeworm*, a puppy with a sprained leg**, and a cat with a nasty upper respiratory infection***.

_*Aziraphale smelled different today. Maybe a new cologne? Crowley would have to investigate later when he isn’t supposed to be paying attention._

_**There’s just the tiniest bit of stubble visible on the man. Crowley’s never seen him with a full beard before, but he had a feeling that Aziraphale could pull it off._

_***Aziraphale pointed to something on the cat’s chart and inadvertently pulled Crowley’s attention to his hands. He knows from experience**** that they’re surprisingly soft, and yet strong and steady when needed._

_****Sadly, “experience” in this instance just means “work observations” and “sometimes when I hand him something our fingers brush and wow what I wouldn’t give to hold his hand for just a moment—.”_

After a short discussion on which case would be most beneficial to start the day with, they began working on possible tapeworm dog. Deworming was incredibly simple and as he shifted through one of the pharmacy’s cabinets, Crowley hoped that the other fairly straight-forward cases meant that it might actually be a simple shift for once. What a blessing that would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW if anyone needs it for mention of dog being hit by a car. pet is alive and healthy though surgery is briefly mentioned. want to avoid all mention of that? stop reading when you see "Though his opinion on Aziraphale was truly solidified" and start again at "“Wow,” Crowley had said at the time," x

The shift was shit.

What started off as a slow, easy shift quickly devolved into complete madness. A whole slew of patients arrived almost immediately, many of which were a bit more complicated than the first few patients, which were practically effortless in comparison. From patients who needed suturing on some deep lacerations, to gastrointestinal complications and two separate emergency surgeries to many, many more; they dealt with it all. As the day shifted further into the afternoon, Crowley began to dread hearing Newt’s voice echoed over the intercom, paging for yet another tech to run to the front to assess a newcomer. The busyness and chaos of the clinic led to Crowley not realizing he hadn’t taken off his sunglasses until roughly three hours into his shift, and by then his usually artfully messy hairstyle was done for, and wasn’t _that_ just the icing on the cake?

But Aziraphale was there. Tirelessly and effortlessly working, through a haze of patients and surgeries, he was there. So, to Crowley, it was genuinely fine, even if it was a frenzied madhouse. He’d make it through by his doctor’s side.  
  


The emergencies didn’t slow down until well into the evening. Typically the later on in the night it is, the frequency of visits decreases and they’re able to relax just a fraction. Per their usual routine, once the chaos ebbed away and the clinic was fairly quiet, Aziraphale and Crowley retired to the doctor’s office* and settled in with their drinks of choice** to chat.

_*Really it’s the ultrasound room. Technically there is a space for Aziraphale in the general doctor’s office, but he prefers the solitude of the desk in ultrasound rather than the cramped quarters of the daytime office._

_**Tea for Aziraphale, coffee for Crowley. Gotta get through the long shifts somehow, and that somehow must involve some form of caffeine._

They talk about nothing and everything*. Aziraphale details a rare book he’s recently nabbed and asks after Crowley’s plants**, Crowley listens intently*** and rants about his gardening adventures in turn. They talk about their plans for another dinner date on Monday, which is mostly Aziraphale plotting which new restaurant he’ll be dragging the both of them to while Crowley nods thoughtfully and offers support to every new idea he has.

_*The only topic they’ve yet to broach is that of romantic feelings and entanglements._

_**Crowley has a large collection of indoor plants in his flat that he talks to daily as he cares for them. When asked, he states that purchasing greenery is simply cheaper than therapy sessions._

_***He is incapable of doing anything else when Aziraphale speaks. Except perhaps daydream._

It’s in the middle of the debate over whether or not they’ll be in the mood for Italian food come Monday evening that Aziraphale’s phone rings* and he excuses himself to take the call outside.

_*He always has his ringer on, which many of the younger folk** at Celestial mock him for. In their defense, it is often very loud and extremely annoying. There is a theory that this is on purpose but no one has yet to actually approach Aziraphale about it._

_**Anathema._

Crowley takes this time to sip his coffee and think on his relationship with Aziraphale*.

_*Embarrassingly, this is as per his usual thought process._

  
  
  


He first met Aziraphale Eastgate roughly ten years ago, when the ER side of Celestial Animal Clinic formally merged with the daytime side. Crowley had already been working as an emergency tech there for nearly a year and had developed a healthy distaste for the non-emergency staff. So, yeah, when he first saw the new vet hanging around, he _did_ just assume he’d be a righteous, pretentious prick like the others. Plus he was a _specialized_ vet*, ugh. Safe to say, he hadn’t been the most charming or warm person there the few times the two had bumped into each other before meeting proper. That changed surprisingly quickly the first time Aziraphale had covered an ER shift. He’d been thrown off by Aziraphale’s general manners, expecting his politeness and charm to simply be a shallow persona, similar to the other daytime vets at Celestial, but he’d come to find out that the vet was as genuine as one could be. _And_ he soon found out that Aziraphale practiced specialized surgeries, which was extremely helpful during emergency shifts.

_*Those were often the worst, in Crowley’s opinion, as he found them to be full of themselves. Oh you focused on canine acupuncture instead of generalized veterinary medicine? How quaint._

Though his opinion on Aziraphale was truly solidified during that shift when Crowley witnessed Aziraphale game Celestial’s system to help an owner in a time of need.

The owner in question was a woman whose dog had gotten loose from its yard and had been struck by a car. The injuries were thankfully mostly minor scrapes, though one of the dog’s hind legs had suffered a pretty severe fracture. Aziraphale had explained that while there was a decent possibility of the leg healing up on its own, what her dog really needed was a surgery to guarantee a healthy and happy future. When presented with estimates for either option, the client blanched and tearfully told him that she would really genuinely prefer the surgery for her dog’s sake, but she had a budding family at home and financial constraints meant that she would have to opt for pain meds instead.

Crowley had expected it to end there, as many of the other vets he had worked with were very strict with the clinic’s pricing and were mostly focused on getting clients out of the clinic as quickly as possible. Here, though, Aziraphale had surprised him. Instead of sending her out the door with a few days of pain meds, he’d sat down with her in the exam room and said, “ _Well, here’s the thing. I’ve just started here, and I don’t have any pets in our system yet. And the clinic owner has set me up with a very nice doctor’s discount, which makes even the most intensive procedure really amount to nothing. Maybe something like this would be equal to, oh, a day of medications. But, like I said, I’ve no one to use it on. So, I’d like to extend that to you and your family._ ”

The client agreed in a heartbeat, and from there Aziraphale kept his word, performing a surgery and keeping the dog briefly hospitalized all for the cost of an exam and medications.

_“Wow,”_ Crowley had said at the time, as Aziraphale relayed both the conversation and the plan for the patient, _“You’re a real angel.”_

Aziraphale had blushed and fumbled something out in response then and Crowley had been smitten since.

Afterwards, as they worked more often together and chatted freely between each other’s shifts, their positive working relationship grew rapidly into a strong friendship, with dinner dates and outings* at least once weekly**. Recently, Crowley had even gotten Aziraphale to text him back consistently. Which was a huge step for the very old-fashioned, _why-don’t-you-just-call-me-Crowley-I-mean-honestly_ vet. Now, even if they were set to see each other, they hardly went a day without texting back and forth.

_*Occasionally just walks in the park, sometimes nights out to plays, frequently visits to museums. Notably, Crowley once convinced Aziraphale to see a horror movie in the theatre with him_ _in a convoluted plan to maybe hold his hand if the other man got too scared. Unfortunately this plot somewhat backfired, as Crowley didn’t account for how easily frightened_ he _was and he ended up being one clinging to the armrest in between them instead. Still, Aziraphale_ did _keep a comforting hold on his arm and chuckled at him throughout the film so Crowley chalked it up as a win regardless of his shattered pride._

 _**Sometimes as often as every other day, depending on how the week progressed and schedules aligned. It_ did _seem a bit excessive to those around them._

And while he loves every second he’s able to spend with Aziraphale, recently the doctor’s been… off. Every shift, especially the long and arduous emergency ones, it’s a little more obvious. Sure, his demeanor is the same, but sometimes there’s a tiredness in his voice and a weariness in the set of his shoulders that Crowley’s not seen before. 

He knows Aziraphale. He knows his hours, which have been seeming longer and longer recently, and he knows that Aziraphale always goes above and beyond and puts forth all the effort he can into caring for people’s pets. Thus Crowley is just a bit* worried that maybe the doctor’s been overworked, and wasn’t truly getting the rest he deserved.

_*Very._

He didn’t have too long to follow that train of thought, as Aziraphale walked back into the makeshift office. His greeting smile is tight and a little tired, which was a sure sign* to Crowley that he’d just got off the phone with the head of the daytime veterinarians, Dr. Gabriel Goodman**.

* _Impressively, for a man who works in emergency animal services, Aziraphale’s main source of stress is directly from Gabriel, and there are always many specific tells Aziraphale displays that result from an interaction with him._

_**Ironically named, Crowley claims, as he’s really a huge prick._

So obviously he asked after it. “What was that about?”

Aziraphale sighed in response as he sat back down. “Gabriel called, saying that the walk-in vet Monday may have to call out. He wants me to come in.” He twisted his hands in his lap, yet another glaring sign of his frazzled nerves.

Ah, yep. Typical Gabriel trying to toss a shift on Aziraphale on one of his days off. Crowley only nodded in response and sipped his coffee. They fell into a quiet spell.

Crowley can only stand the silence for so long before his thoughts from before come racing back and he decided to voice his concerns.

“Are you okay? I mean-- you just-- you seem. Tired. Recently. And today, through the whole shift you’ve just seemed sort of-- out of it. Not that I think you can’t do your job, because obviously, y’know, I have complete faith in you. More than those other tossers I’m forced to work with during the week. I’m, uh. Just worried. About you.” Crowley mentally facepalmed after struggling to expel that bout of emotional discussion out of his mouth. Definitely not his finest moment, but communicating around vulnerability is admittedly not his strong suit.

Aziraphale stared at him for a brief moment with a strange look on his face that Crowley couldn’t quite place* before huffing. Crowley expected the general refutal and defensiveness that usually comes whenever he frets over Aziraphale**, but what he said instead was, “I suppose I am. Tired, that is.”

_*Incredibly frustrating for him because he liked to think of himself as an expert on Aziraphale’s face._

_**The doctor, despite being one of the worst worrywarts Crowley’s ever met, cannot stand when anyone, including his tech, expresses concern over him._

“I’m truly sorry for worrying you. I’ve just felt the stress and hours of the past few weeks catching up to me, I think.”

“I get that. You do know I’m always here for you, right? For anything. Genuinely.”

“I do know. But thank you, I appreciate it, truly.” Aziraphale paused for a moment, “And as well as being tired recently... Gabriel is currently a bit cross with me for declining to cover the walk-in shift Monday.”

That is a legitimate surprising sentence, to the point where Crowley does need to take a moment to actually digest it. “Wow. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you tell him no.” Not an exaggeration, as historically Gabriel has always found some way to bully or manipulate Aziraphale into doing most anything, including taking the other daytime vet’s walk-in shifts when they simply don’t want to work it.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to miss our dinner date that evening and you know how those shifts go. Who knows when I would leave the clinic if I took it? I’d much rather be with you.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that one, exactly, so he mumbled a “Thanks, angel.” and switched the conversation quickly. The flush on his face from Aziraphale calling it a _date_ and the fluttery feelings from him choosing Crowley over giving into Gabriel did not fade as speedily though, and he thought about it throughout the night.

  
  
  


Fortunately for everyone involved, the following day’s shift was much calmer. Normally, Sundays are the competitor for the busiest day of the week but it seemed Lady Luck was smiling down on Crowley in particular as he clocked in and set about doing a preliminary exam on the only patient present, a small white lapdog that had just been brought to the treatment area. Anathema stepped out of the pharmacy and sidled up next to him while he placed the dog on the exam table.

“So,” Anathema began, prodding his arm with her elbow, “What are your plans this week?”

“Aziraphale and I are grabbing dinner tomorrow.”

She made a noise of triumph which mostly served to mildly alarm the dog on the table. “Ah, I should’ve known! Where are the lovebirds going then?”

Crowley wrote down the dog’s vitals, valiantly ignoring her until she elbowed him again, harshly this time.

He yelped and rubbed at his arm. “Christ! I don’t know yet! Some Italian place. He usually decides right when we get in the car. Are you satisfied now?”

“He decides?”

“Yeah, I don’t really care where we go. He’s the foodie out of the two of us. So, y’know, whatever he wants.”

“That’s cute.” He grunted noncommittally in response. “It is! I mean, the two of you are already practically married, but I’m really rooting for you.”

Crowley tried to ignore both how hot his cheeks were and the smiles on both of their faces and get on with his job.

The shift passed unremarkably, thankfully. No surgeries, no critical cases. At the end of the night, Crowley crowded Aziraphale into his car to drop him off at his flat. When they arrived, Aziraphale reached over to grasp Crowley’s hand before he got out of the car.

“Thank you. For the ride, of course, but for talking with me the other night. For caring.”

For some reason, the vet holding his hand causes Crowley’s mouth to dry and his brain to shut off all executive functions, so instead of making any grand romantic statements like he’d always daydreamed about, he just croaked out, “‘Course, angel. Always.”

Aziraphale simply smiled in return, squeezed his hand once, and left.

Crowley flexed his hand, watched Aziraphale disappear into his building, and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shout out to my friends for reading this mess before i post it here and catching the cringefail mistakes i make. i love you people and i am sorry i keep subjecting you to my whimsies


End file.
